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Chapter 7

           ForyoudonotknowthatUnclePumblechook,beingsensiblethatforanythingwecantell,thisboy’sfortunemaybemadebyhisgoingtoMissHavisham’s,hasofferedtotakehimintotownto-nightinhisownchaise-cart,andtokeephimto-night,andtotakehimwithhisownhandstoMissHavisham’sto-morrowmorning.AndLor-a-mussyme!"criedmysister,castingoffherbonnetinsuddendesperation,"hereIstandtalkingtomereMooncalfs,withUnclePumblechookwaiting,andthemarecatchingcoldatthedoor,andtheboygrimedwithcrockanddirtfromthehairofhisheadtothesoleofhisfoot!"

           Withthat,shepounceduponme,likeaneagleonalamb,andmyfacewassqueezedintowoodenbowlsinsinks,andmyheadwasputundertapsofwater-butts,andIwassoaped,andkneaded,andtowelled,andthumped,andharrowed,andrasped,untilIreallywasquitebesidemyself.(ImayhereremarkthatIsupposemyselftobebetteracquaintedthananylivingauthority,withtheridgyeffectofawedding-ring,passingunsympatheticallyoverthehumancountenance.)

           Whenmyablutionswerecompleted,Iwasputintocleanlinenofthestiffestcharacter,likeayoungpenitentintosackcloth,andwastrussedupinmytightestandfearfullestsuit.IwasthendeliveredovertoMr

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